You’re walking down the street, following the hooded figure. Your eyes glint as you watch him turn into an alleyway, then race up to hide at the entrance. Your entire body is trembling with excitement.

You can hear voices, murmuring gently, then a stabbing skyward and a muffled shout. You grin, not daring to peek over into the alleyway in a fear of getting caught. You have, after all, been following the serial killer for what felt like months now- it would be a shame to get caught now.

You sigh and sink down against the wall, humming a faint tune. Two black boots appear on the ground in front of you. You look up.

And there he is, a death grip on his knife, face controrted in anger. He points it at you wildly.

“Who the fuck are you?” He snarls. Your smile widens.